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<title>jerk by evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769660">jerk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck'>evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hope's FE3H Smut Fics [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Universe, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:08:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorenz conjures up an image of a persistently attractive rival during some alone time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sylvain Jose Gautier/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hope's FE3H Smut Fics [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>jerk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For FE3H Wanksgiving Weekend 2020!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He touches his own length with quivering fingers; his hands are usually cold but tonight they sear with warmth. He could almost think he was casting magic, but there's no Reason here, just his sweaty, furtive grip.  </p><p>Lorenz imagines a large, muscled body pressed against his side, smelling of bergamot and cedar, that scent that's wafted into his nose more than once, as Sylvain leans over to make obnoxious comments and get under his skin, or when they've sparred in the training grounds, the scent sweaty and heady when one of them manages to get in close. </p><p>Infuriatingly always-perfect crimson waves that look soft to the touch; would they feel soft against his neck? That mocking baritone turned raspy with desire, murmuring quiet, eager words of encouragement, telling him he's doing a good job, offering a big, warm, lance-calloused hand wrapped over Lorenz's thinner fingers. </p><p>His hips jerk up into his own hand and he gasps; precome throbs out the tip of his cock and his waiting fingers slip through it, making it impossible not to think of lips and tongue. A lower, drawn-out groan seeps through Lorenz's own teeth at the thought.</p><p>He wonders how those lips that curl so easily into a sneer would feel sliding down his length. Dark lashes sweep down across freckled cheeks in the sordid pictures in his mind's eye.  </p><p>A small, helpless cry leaps from his throat and Lorenz tightens his grip, twisting his fist at the head of his cock and sliding it back down with increasing fervor. </p><p>Would he like it, if Lorenz bucked forward just enough to choke him on it a little? He's heard Sylvain is the wanton type, and though Lorenz has only heard about him bedding women, tonight he's indulging his fantasies.</p><p>When he finally spends over his hand and stomach, though, it's the thought of soft words, of lips against Lorenz's neck, of fingers laced together, that flings him over the edge. He thinks of leaning back, bracing on a muscled arm; of gentle touches to his hair, grazing the close-cropped strands at the back of his neck. </p><p><em>Sentiment. Fantastic. </em> Lorenz exhales with a groan as he lies back on his bed.  He'll deal with his embarrassment later, he thinks, as he slips into a haze imagining clever words and warm, amber-brown eyes.</p><p> </p>
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